Additional Pylons
by StellarWind
Summary: A StarCraft ficlet that my brain coughed up at 4 AM prompted by a conversation with a friend after wondering just where exactly do the Protoss warp their buildings from.


Countless legends have been written of the prowess of the Templars and the wisdom of the Judicators, but surprisingly few texts recount the lives and times of the Khalai, the civilian caste of the Protoss. And after all, what great glory could be in the lives of common workers? No triumph in battle, no great lore and arbitration - hell, when was the last time any of you have even _seen_ any of the Khalai? After all, their parts in the theatre of war are largely played by probes, warping their great constructs and fleets into the field of battle, all fresh and ready to conquer their next challenge. The Khalai remain on the sidelines, thanklessly putting these structures and weapons together and maintaining supplies ready to go at all times to suit the demands of the war machine.

There must _never_ be a shortage. Not again.

Only once did the Khalai neglect their tasks - when unstable warp fields and improperly contained Vespene Gas threatened their lives and their complaints fell on deaf ears as Praetors bickered and politicked and the Templars lay on the pressure. Inevitably, unions were formed and the Khalai laid down their tools until their demands were met. It was disastrous - the forces of the Empire were spread thin, and warriors often found their air support has been warped elsewhere, or that they were suddenly in a different battlefield altogether while their colleagues were stealing their kills. It was a dark time - and not only due to the overwhelming, unheeded need to construct additional pylons - but the Khalai have earned their victory.

Protoss history, of course, treats this as a footnote to maintain the illusion of a glorious legacy - but those who lived through it referred to it as the Aeon of Strike - in what would have probably been a tongue-in-cheek manner, if Protoss had tongues. Or cheeks, for that matter.

One way or another, there was a stock to maintain - and naturally, every stock required an inventory. And every inventory requires some poor schmuck to maintain it.

Stevanis was what you'd call an average Khalai. He has been around Pylons all his life - and after several centuries of being shuffled around from Khaydarin mines to manufacturing lines, he thought his recent promotion to the pylon storage manager of Orontes construction yard, unit B, was to be an easy job. For a while, it was - but then came the fall of Aiur and all Void broke loose. Orders were fast-tracked under some new regulations the Judicators regularly pulled out of their nerve-tendrils and whatever underlings he had do the inventory work for him have been re-called to the production lines, forcing him to scuttle around within the storage units (truly mammoth structures) and make sure the accursed computers were doing their jobs right in enumerating the pylons and their locations and making sure they are warp-ready. Stevanis did not trust the Khaydarin cores. The one time they missed a glaring production flaw, the warp field ignited an entire storeroom. It took them days to scrape the shards from the walls, and some of the junior stock workers were STILL talking backwards about seeing the light. To make matters worse, Entire ROWS of pylons were disappearing on a daily basis, before he managed to even take note of their locations and file for replacements to be brought in from the manufacturing lines. His lists were getting more and more out of order - and nothing pisses a Khalai off more than their lists being out of order.

Except for their machines being out of order, which the blasted hover-platform was today. Stevanis hated the thing and was secretly certain that it entirely had it out for him - Somehow the antigrav unit always managed to be just a bit more fiddly when HE had to use the platform - but there was no way around it. Without the hover unit the journey from one end of the storage unit to another would take days. He attempted to tinker with it before, but to no avail. Something about the resonance from all those pylons. Blast this damn machine. He finally got the thing to activate and set it on the trail for the typical inspection rounds, taking notes of vacant spaces, shifting units, touching pads, wiring orders to the production line through the communal bond that gave the Protoss their terrifying efficiency. It was a long and tedious process, but finally the inventory was checked and balanced - and Stevanis breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that his work for this cycle was done.

The alarm blared three seconds later, followed by a bright flash of light as every single pylon disappeared.

"Didn't you hear? They're trying to retake the homeworld!" said a passing youngling, rushing across the hall to the production lines.

If the Protoss had jaws, Stevanis' would have dropped. As it stood, he had no mouth and he had to scream.

Khalai do not weep at the prospect of hard work undone in a moment.

However, they do, on occasion, whimper a little.


End file.
